


Divine Sight

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2020-03-10 04:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: By CarlyAn alternate ending to "The Furies".





	Divine Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar).

Sometimes in the hush after a fierce battle I was able to look about the fields of the dead and nod my head with cold satisfaction.

 

At that time I could look over the hills and see the land rolling before me – my land – and not even see the blood.

 

I could tear a flag from a dead man’s hand, and not even notice his grip.

 

Often I cut across the flesh of a soldier’s throat without the least anger, watching him choke and die with the utmost calmness.

 

I had left it all behind; but the feeling came over me again that day.

 

Sometimes as the last surrender sounded I was filled with a wild exaltation. I would sing out my ululation, I would leap in gladness.

 

At that time I could scarcely see the dead about me for the victory march I imagined; could not hear the cries of agony over the roars of triumph in my mind.

 

I could tear apart a man who had driven me to fury with a gesture, and destroy everything he had known in the next moment.

 

Often I dreamt of death, and awoke with fire in my eyes.

 

I had left it all behind; but the feeling came over me again that day.

 

II

 

I chose to take her to my temple on the isle of Athos, rather than Mt Olympus, crowded as it was with the intrigues of petty gods.

 

The ancients who had lived on that isle had built my temple looking out to the sea, for that is where their enemies originated. But time had passed; their enemies had forgot them, and soon the small tribe remaining on the place faded away.

 

I would never pass. My stone temple was overgrown with vines, and some of the carvings had been eaten away by wind and rain. Dried leaves scattered the mosaic floors, and a little sand edged about the pillars.

 

A clap of my hands made the inner rooms bright with fire, brought tapestries from Troy to hang over the walls, laid down thick carpets to warm the feet. It was a thought, and then it was. I stood in the midst of it all, with Xena in my arms, and I was pleased.

 

She was incoherent; she looked around with eyes wild and sad, and in her arms she cradled her bloodied sword. She would not be parted from it.

 

I laid her down on one of the long Roman chairs, and heard her mutter softly to herself. I smiled a little and watched her. I liked her unkempt hair, her tunic torn, her boots splashed with dried blood. I had seen her thus before.

 

I pulled a jewelled goblet from the air, filled with cool nectar, and I bent down beside her.

 

Drink, I told her softly. You will understand, then.

 

Her long fingers grasped the stem of the golden cup, and she laughed, wildly, before burying her face into the liquid. Then she choked.

 

A blow to the head found me sprawled on the floor, with Xena standing over me, brandishing her blade. She moved about the room suspiciously, tossed her head once or twice, then held out a hand for me to rise.

 

What is this – have you given me ambrosia, or –

 

Nectar, I told her. The drink of the gods, though unlike ambrosia, it is not enough to sustain one. The effect will wear off eventually.

 

But for the moment, I am as a god. And Xena nodded, then leapt forward and plunged her still-bloodied sword into my side.

 

I jumped back, suddenly furious.

 

Oh, I understand, Xena said smoothly, her hand at her hip. She flung her chakram into the air and waited as I looked about nervously, then plunged again to the floor as it soared over my head. She captured it again in her hand.

 

When Gabrielle dragged me to the temple of the Furies, I was confused, she went on, moving forward and aiming a kick at my ribs.

 

I had seen the work of the Furies before. Their many voices, driving a soul to despair with their strange, contradictory commands. Xena smirked as I leapt up, and snatched my own sword from my hip.

 

I heard just one voice.

 

Xena moved back as I lunged, then neatly kicked my legs out from under me.

 

It was a voice I had heard before, softly, softly, at the back of my mind, in the days when I was under you in battle.

 

You were never under me, I growled, and flipped over and behind her, with my blade at her throat.

 

All I could gasp out to Gabrielle was . . .

 

. . . then she was fallen on the floor, her head in her arms, choking on great sobs. Her sword clattered to the ground.

 

The gods, the gods . . .

 

I dropped my own sword, then, though it disappeared before it touched the floor. Then I found a bowl of water, and I washed her hands clean.

 

III

 

The next day I found her at the window, watching the waves roll in from the open sea. I saw she had exchanged her torn clothes for a fresh, simple tunic – and she wore no armour. I thought she did not notice my arrival, but then she spoke.

 

This is how you see, isn’t it. It all seems so far away –

 

I placed my hand on her shoulder and shook my head.

 

This is how I see, I told her, and then I showed her a baby, showed it growing fast into manhood, sickening, dying, disappearing from the earth.

 

Little disappointments, small griefs, they all pass away the same.

 

Is that how quickly time passes, here, she asked acutely, but I shook my head again.

 

That was but a vision. You are still mortal – and you’ve aged only a few hours.

 

Have I.

 

I saw her eyes begin to slip and so brought a fresh goblet of nectar into my hand. I offered it to her, noticing still a smudge of red on her wrist. She took the cup and drank, but then looked up at me, her eyes narrowed.

 

Without this, I slip again into madness.

 

No mortal can endure both divine sight and sanity, I told her, scarcely aware of what I was saying. She understood, however, and laughed – a short, bitter laugh.

 

So everything I loved must mean nothing to me. So everything that once mattered must pass.

 

Not everything, I said, and gave her another vision, of battle and of the glory of war. Though she tried to hide it, I could feel her passion grow. Still, she shook my hand off.

 

Here, she said, with a flick of your fingers you could take away my life, and create some magical warrior to do your bidding.

 

I grinned, then. Where’s the fun in that, I asked her, laughing. She looked at me carefully.

 

There is something I have that you want, that even you cannot create. Something even you don’t know that you want.

 

Her words meant nothing to me; I moved away, let her gaze out at the sea, while I tended to minor battles, and dreamt of a great war that never ended.

 

IV

 

The following day I appeared again with the drink of the gods. She held the golden cup in her hands, but hesitated.

 

If I choose not to drink this, then –

 

I stepped forward incredulously. You can’t want to lose yourself in madness!

 

She inclined her head thoughtfully. You’ve given me divine vision, that all men must pass, and therefore are meaningless in the long spin of time.

 

I nodded.

 

Let me, then, broker a deal with you – and she smiled a thin sharp smile. Let me repay you for your gift of wisdom. Let me give you a vision, not of divinity, but of humanity.

 

I snorted. I can see them quite well from here, I told her. And you forget I’ve known mortality.

 

Xena shook her head. I did not speak of mortality, she said carefully. You remained a god, even when you thought you could die. I said humanity.

 

Then she reached out a hand and placed it on my own. Your nectar doesn’t allow me to transport you, she said, but I can still show you a vision –

 

She drank from the goblet at last, gasped a little, then drew me into darkness.

 

_Suddenly it was night. I felt the cool air, felt my body ache strangely. I was following a narrow path through a wood, and although there was danger all around me, it wasn’t that which was making each breath harder to take._

 

_I looked down. In my arms, nestling so close, was a child. My child. My flesh. His eyes were open, and he looked at me fearlessly and lovingly, in a way no soul ever had._

 

_I think the small journey took just minutes, but I lived a whole world within those moments and within those eyes._

 

_Suddenly I was startled, and when I looked up a Centaur approached, suspicious, angry, and – somehow I could tell – grieving bitterly._

 

_My hand moved of its own accord. I pushed aside the shawl and showed him the babe. And then I passed my son over to him, and turned my back._

 

I opened my eyes and I was on my back on the floor, taking enormous breaths, my body tense. I looked around, but Xena was standing by the window, her face impassive.

 

You – you gave me a memory, I gasped.

 

She nodded, looking at me carefully.

 

It was only a few minutes of your life, it was –

 

A moment in time, but you see that it has stayed close by me ever since, she replied quietly. Her body resting against the ledge of the window.

 

I moved closer to her, and touched a hand to her face, turning it to mine. For long moments I stared deep within the blue depths of her eyes, and although it was the space of a heartbeat, still I believe that memory will stay with me forever.

 

I don’t want your divine vision, Xena said. I don’t want your eternity. Your voice told me that my mother’s life was worthless, so I plunged my sword into her. Your voice told me that everything was meaningless, so I didn’t understand when Gabrielle leapt in front of her, and was killed in the same blow. Even now, your nectar reminds me that all must pass, and their lives were a flash of light in a long, long day.

 

Then she turned away, and stared out the window.

 

Still, there’s a part of me – perhaps it is simply my memory – that knows that their light, however brief, was worth all the worlds before and since to me. And that even if my son had died that day, his moments of life in my arms were more valuable than kingdoms.

 

Then she leapt onto the ledge, and plunged into the sea.

 

Her body plunged down, down, into the depths of the ocean, where there was no more sight, no more sound, no more feelings. Away from the earth. I moved a hand, and she was cleansed and freed. I watched a little longer, and saw her damp body on a beach, awoken and greeted by her mother, by Gabrielle. Then I left that temple and watched no more.


End file.
